Stanley pointed to the letter with a pipe he had drawn from his jacket pocket. . He pictured himself visiting the girl in this shabby little home of her aunt’s—she had told him that it was shabby—and he recalled that delicious little smile with which she would surely greet him, a smile which seemed to be a matter of the eyes as well as the lips. Pitt, the then governor of Newgate. “How old are you?” “Sixteen.
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